


Off the Rails

by silverlily



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-23
Updated: 2012-05-23
Packaged: 2017-11-05 22:02:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/411465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverlily/pseuds/silverlily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Can two brilliant, broken men find solace in each other?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Off the Rails

**Author's Note:**

> Gloriously un-beta-ed and also my first public fic. Be gentle. A tad darker than most of the other Bruce/Tony fics I've seen. This piece is Teen+ but subsequent chapters are planned as Mature or Explicit. Enjoy!

For once, Stark hadn’t been exaggerating. This was Candyland. The R&D floors of Stark Tower were immaculate and wonderful and awe-inspiring.

Possibly more surprising: Stark gave him a personal tour instead of delegating it to a lackey. In fact, he seemed to have even more of a strut in his step than usual as he whisked Bruce through floor after floor of intricate apparatus, whirring gadgets, gizmos, and walls full of transparent display screens. Equipment that Bruce had coveted for his own research but had been unable to afford (despite DOD funding) earned a mere shrug from Tony and a dry “Well, I don’t always share my toys. But I do make the occasional exception.”

And unlike the SHIELD helicarrier no one was staring at him.Whether this was due to ignorance regarding his public persona or forewarning from Stark was unclear but it didn’t really matter to Bruce. He felt welcomed in a way that he hadn’t felt in a very long time. The research department felt like home.

Bruce had brushed off Tony’s initial invitation with a quip about destroying Harlem. But the invasion had muddied his previously clear notion of how he -and the Other Guy- fit into the world. Post-invasion he was suddenly regarded as part of the team by the rest of the Avengers. He had to admit that it felt good to be needed. It felt good to be trusted again. And so when Stark broached the subject of visiting the R & D department again it hadn’t taken much to wear down his resistance.

“I’m not sure that’s the best idea, Stark.”

“Dr. Banner. I insist. Come up to the labs. Take a look around. You’ll fit right in.”

“In a crowded research facility full of expensive equipment?”

“I insist. One month. Try out the labs; hell, stay at the Tower. We have plenty of room and we’ll be doing some renovations anyway. Love what you did to my living room, by the way.” He grinned.  
“On second thought: make it one month or a hundred thousand dollars in damages, whichever comes first.”

Bruce hesitated a moment, considering the offer, hoping Tony wasn’t mocking him.

“Well, if you insist-”

“I do,” Tony interrupted. “I do insist. Dr. Banner, you must join my lab. Come on, Mister Wizard, I’ve got a car waiting.”

Now he was here, on the ninety-fifth floor of Stark Tower, ogling a high-powered laser while Tony chattered away about nanometers and voltages and intricate optics. When Tony gently took him by the elbow to steer him onward it felt totally natural. That gave him pause. It had been years since anyone touched him voluntarily. Not once they knew what he was, not once they saw the Other Guy in the flesh.

As for him, he was haunted by the memory of Betty. Every time he considered getting close to another person, even just as a friend, his mind dredged up a memory of the night on the roof. It was a hazy memory, a memory from the Other Guy, but in it Betty’s expression was crystal clear: a mixture of horror and sadness and disgust. That memory was always like being slapped in the face. Bruce didn’t touch people voluntarily anymore and they didn’t touch him. It wasn’t fair and it wasn’t enjoyable, that’s just the way it was.

Yet here was Stark, a man known to be an arrogant and callous asshole- arguably the world’s foremost arrogant and callous asshole- guiding him around R & D as if Bruce were a debutante at a cotillion. The mental image made Bruce smile to himself. Tony noticed. Bruce meanwhile, was distracted by Tony’s grasp on his arm.

Trying to clear his mind, trying to steer the conversation away from why he was smiling, he interjected with a pointed question about the applications of the laser system in front of them. Tony beamed at him in response, his dark eyes lighting up with near-manic enthusiasm as he explained in precise detail how they planned to use it for a series of medical breakthroughs. Bruce marvelled at how passionate Tony could be and then realized that it must be refreshing for Stark to be able to speak at length to someone without dumbing things down.

Tony’s grip on his upper arm had tightened as he spoke, and he had moved a half-step closer to Bruce. Bruce found himself studying Tony’s movements, watching the way he carried himself, hearing the careful inflections of Tony’s voice, watching the strength and grace in the gestures of his free hand as he spoke. He suddenly became aware of the heat and the tightness of the grip on his upper arm and could almost feel his face flushing. What was wrong with him?

“Something the matter, Jolly Green?” Tony took a step back to regard him quizzically and removed his hand from Bruce’s arm.

Bruce shook his head slightly, a lock of brown hair falling into his left eye. He brushed it away absentmindedly.

“No, no. Nothing is wrong. This is just a bit...overwhelming.” He paused, gathering his thoughts. “I’ve been out of the lab for years. I think my brain has a cramp.” He chuckled quietly.

“Ah. Yes. I think I got slightly carried away and started giving you the Super Detailed Deluxe tour of the lab when you’re still running on Calcutta speed. There’s no rush. What do you need? Green tea? Yoga? Benedictine monk chants?” He had turned toward one of the many transparent screens surrounding the R & D area and was gesturing at it with a series of precise movements.

“Here. Yes. Looks like we’ve got some living quarters cleaned out and habitable now. Jarvis, confirm?”

“Yes, sir. The 65th floor now has two adjacent living quarters prepared for residents. I took the liberty of moving some of your things into the Tesla wing on the left. Dr. Banner has full access to the right side, the Curie wing,” the AI replied briskly.

“Excellent. Thank you, Jarvis.” He turned back to Bruce. “Do you have anything with you that you’d like placed in your quarters? Did you even have time to pack? Seems risky to travel without extra pants when the Other Guy can make an appearance at any time.”

Bruce looked down at himself. He was wearing a well-tailored pair of dark grey pants and a violet shirt, both provided by his host. “I only brought the clothes on my back. And a toothbrush. Didn’t need much in Calcutta.” Another quiet pause. “Prior to this week the Other Guy hadn’t made an appearance in months.”

“Well, we have plenty of time to get your wardrobe squared away. In the meantime I’d prefer it if you didn’t Hulk Smash those pants. Why don’t you go take a look at your quarters, get settled in? Jarvis will show you the way. I have a few things I’d like to tinker with up here.” He waved his hands expansively at the lab tables.

Bruce nodded, knowing a dismissal when he heard one, and headed to the sleek elevator along the north wall. He didn’t notice Tony watching him walk away.

********************

Dr. Bruce Banner cleaned up nice. Very nice, in fact. Dark suit, maroon shirt, hair an artful tousle of dark curls. His warm brown eyes weren’t hiding behind glasses for once.

Tony couldn’t stop looking at him. Of course, he was discreet about it. The ribbing that he’d get from Barton alone would be relentless. Bruce, meanwhile, was oblivious completely oblivious.

Tony had finally managed to cajole the semi-reclusive genius into a gathering with the rest of the Avengers team. They were all gathered at a very, very, underground club. Tony had a private table on reserve and the other patrons paid them no heed. Thor was getting quite a bit of attention, but that was to be expected.Clint was surveying the room looking for a dance partner for Steve, who was sheepishly declining every single one. Natasha was helping.

“What about her? You like brunettes, don’t you?” Natasha asked with a tiny smirk. “I know I do.”

“You like blondes too, Tash. And redheads. Clearly Steve here has a more refined palette.”

Clint poked Steve good-naturedly with an elbow. Steve flushed and stared at the floor, then took a sip of his drink. It was an Old Fashioned, of course, and he was sipping it as if it was the last drink on the planet. Tony was drinking a lovely aged bourbon, Thor had a highball glass full of something that would strip paint, Clint and Natasha were splitting a pitcher of German beer. But the noteworthy thing was that even Bruce had a drink in his hand, a whiskey sour.

It had been Barton, out of all of them, that had managed to get Bruce to have a drink. He had been declining offers all evening on the premise of keeping the Other Guy locked down tight. Thor had taunted, Tony had tossed a few good-natured insults, Natasha had flashed a winning smile: nothing worked. Then Clint had sidled up to Bruce, murmured something in his ear, and handed their hair-triggered friend a pint of beer.

That had been hours ago and neither of them would spill what the magic words had been. It was maddening. Yet Bruce had loosened up, finished the pint and then started ordering whiskey sours. He looked relaxed, possibly even happy. He was the sexiest thing Tony had seen in a long time.

For once in his romantic life, Tony had no idea how to proceed. Bruce wouldn’t respond well to his usual swagger and brag routine. This required a more delicate hand.

“Steve. Steve! What about her?” Natasha pointed at a tall, slender women with flame-bright hair and a slinky black dress.

“I...ah, well-” Steve stammered.  
“Well if you aren’t interested, I might have to swoop in there,” Tony said.

Bruce blinked at him. “I thought you and Ms. Potts-?”

“Yes, Pepper and I are together, you’re correct about that. But we’ve made certain...arrangements. About romantic entanglements,” Tony replied calmly, still eyeing Natasha’s target.

“The Man of Iron will not be tamed!” Thor boomed and the group laughed.

“Something like that, yes. We’ve got a good thing going, Pepper and I, but we’re often apart. Stark Industries, S.H.I.E.L.D., traveling for fun: one of us is always jetting off somewhere. And I tend to associate with highly attractive people.” He waved his glass at the assembled group. “Case in point.”

“But Natasha’s the only female Avenger,” Steve interjected. “And no offense, but she doesn’t seem too interested in you, big guy.”

Natasha shrugged. “I could take him or leave him. Probably too high maintenance for me.”

“Probably,” Tony agreed. “And yes, dear Captain, Natasha is the only woman in our merry band of mayhem. I did, in fact, notice that. But us guys are pretty dreamy too, if I do say so myself. This is the 21st century after all. Attitudes change. In my case copious amounts of alcohol helped me with that lesson, but I’ve come to realize that hot is hot, whether they’re male, female or somewhere else in between.”

Steve looked scandalized. Bruce looked thoughtful. Clint grinned and mimicked a newscaster: “Billionaire Tony Stark doubles his potential list of suitors with the admission that he’s bisexual.”

Tony laughed and then clarified, “I wouldn’t go that far, to say bisexual, not quite. I prefer the term ‘heteroflexible’ myself. But don’t go telling the tabloids, hmm? I’d never be able to leave the house again.”

“Heteroflexible. I like that,” mused Natasha.”Though now I am wondering how flexible.” Clint gave her a sideways glance and a grin. Thor waggled his eyebrows at the two of them. Steve was suddenly very interested in his drink. Bruce was glancing between the siren in the black dress and Tony, mental wheels apparently spinning furiously.

“Last call!”  
Tony frowned. “Damn, and this was just getting interesting! We’ll have to do this again sometime. In vino veritas, after all. I’m sure we’ve all got interesting stories and secrets to share,” said Tony. “Anyone need a lift? Happy has the car out front, made sure we brought one that would have room for everyone. Just in case.”

Everyone except Bruce declined. The team parted in good spirits and went off their separate ways. Tony thought he saw Bruce wobble a bit as they stepped out into the clear night. He’d had quite a few drinks after what had apparently been quite a dry spell.

The ride home was not exactly what he expected.

********************

The limo was huge for two people but they shared the back bench seat. Even sharing they still had a good foot of space between them. Tony immediately pulled out the decanter and and poured himself a scotch, neat. He waved the glass at Bruce: “Want one?”

Bruce shook his head, his damned adorable curls bouncing just a little. “No thanks. I’m good for tonight.” His expression was pensive mixed with...melancholy?

They rode in silence for a while and it was a comfortable silence. A rarity for Tony. For Tony silence was only comfortable when he was alone. Pepper, Rhodes- even among people he trusted with his life he was never good at just sitting quietly. This was different. His mind started poking at the why it was different when Bruce spoke quietly.

“There’s a reason I don’t drink anymore. Besides being afraid that the Other Guy is going to show up.” The expression on his face made Tony pause and any quip he had prepared withered in his throat. He gave Bruce a tiny nod, encouraging him to continue.

The silence was heavy this time, nearly palpable, but Tony didn’t dare break it. Bruce was hesitant: he ran a hand through his hair, an unconcious nervous tic. All the while he was looking at Tony intently, as if trying to assess the measure of Tony’s soul.

He took a deep breath, settled his shoulders, and continued.

“When I drink...it’s not good for me. Up here, I mean.” He tapped his temple with a finger. “My mind goes to dark places. Really dark places. And I can’t- no matter what- I can’t seem to break myself out of it.” He chuckled, a quiet and bitter sound. His eyes were like bottomless pools. Full of sorrow and despair, deseperation and anger. It was heartbreaking to watch, even for Tony.

“I mean, I’m a genius, right? Not Tony Stark or anything but I’m up there. I’m pretty bright. And yet I can’t- I CAN’T- fix this. I can’t fix any of it. The memories won’t leave me be. The Other Guy is always there, always angry, waiting to erupt. What’s the point in doing anything? I can’t even fix my own problems, how am I supposed to help anyone else? I just get so tired, Tony.”

The last phrase was almost a plea, his eyes filling with tears as he spoke. Tony could feel his own eyes beginning to well-up in response.

“I was tired of fighting. Tired of keeping the Hulk on a short leash. Tired of everything. Everything. That’s why I put a bullet in my mouth. I was fucking exhausted, had a few drinks. Suddenly eating a bullet seemed like the easy solution. Thought I had it all figured out. I woke up and the bullet was on the floor in front of me and my clothes were gone and I knew. I knew I can’t even take the easy way out.” A tear ran down his face. He wiped it away angrily.

“That’s why I don’t drink anymore. But here I am. Stuck in this damn limo with you. Clint convinced me to have a drink, damn him, we were among friends, said he’d keep an eye on me. And I let my guard down. Now I’m right back here again. I’m in that low place again. That point where I wonder what the hell I’m doing with my life. I don’t belong with the Avengers. I don’t belong here. I’m not a hero.”

“You’re a hero to me.”

The words were genuine and they were out in the air before Tony could really process what he was saying. Surprise was clear on Bruce’s face. Tony switched seats, so that he was right next to Bruce, next to his friend, as he elaborated.

“I may not have been concious at the time but I have it on good authority that you leapt into the air and caught me. You know, prevented me from certain death? The Mark VII is a good suit, but it isn’t that good. It isn’t survival after 100 stories and then splat level of good.”

He looked Bruce in the eyes. “And then you roared me awake. Somehow you, the actual Bruce part of you, talked to that big green lunk and managed to wake me up without crushing me into a fine powder. That sounds like a hero to me.”

He smiled gently at Bruce and saw some of the intensity, some of the pain melting away.  
“Look: I never wanted this hero gig either. I developed the first Iron Man suit to escape from captivity. Captivity in Afghanistan. I just wanted to survive. My life up to that point had been a tad aimless, sure, but I wasn’t ready for it to be over.”

Then he took a risk and reached out and took one of Bruce’s hands in his own. Bruce did not pull away.

“Bruce, you are a brilliant scientist. You are an amazing person. If I had been in your shoes you can put a hefty wager on the fact that I wouldn’t have been hiding out in Calcutta. I would have gone full Kaczinkski, hiding out in a cabin and plotting the downfall of the US Government.” He grinned and squeezed Bruce’s hand in his.

“So you don’t have the Meaning of Life all figured out, so what? I need you. I need that brain of yours. I’ve got a dozen projects right now that could use your input. I can’t promise that it will always be easy, but I think I can find a few things to keep you distracted.”

Bruce sighed and slumped forward, rubbing his forehead. He looked so forlorn, so lost. It triggered a memory for Tony, one of staggering alone through the desert. He had designed the suit, escaped the terrorists, and for what? To wander in the blistering heat by himself, hoping someone would find him, wondering if he’d ever see another human again. It was a bleakness that he tried to muffle with scotch and bravado. It was a darkness that threatened to swallow him whole.

That was the catalyst. Pain, heavily laced with alcohol. The kind of pain that feels like an ache in your soul.

Tony reached out with his left hand, the fingers of his right still entangled with Bruce’s. He grasped Bruce’s chin, looked deep into his eyes. His intention had been to snap Bruce out of it, to snap himself out of it, out of the dense blackness that was swallowing them both. But there was something else in those eyes that made him pause. A different ache, a hunger that matched one that had been building in himself.

Then they were locked in a smothering embrace, crushing each other with the weight of their pain and loneliness. Tony couldn’t say who had initiated it, it happened too fast. Bruce had both arms wrapped tight around Tony’s waist and his face buried in the notch between Tony’s shoulder and his neck. Tony found himself with his head gently resting upon Bruce’s head, arms wrapped around Bruce and his hands awkwardly patting Bruce on the back. Tony felt strangely calm. There was comfort here in these arms. There was shelter, for both of them, in this embrace.

He could feel Bruce’s breath on his neck and it sent a little shiver down his spine. Not wanting to ruin the moment, he took a series of deep calming breaths. After the first two he noticed that Bruce was matching him, breath for breath, and both of them seemed to be relaxing their death grip on each other. Tony gently disentangled himself from Bruce’s limbs and scooted back a touch, looked up to find Bruce staring at him with a bemused expression on his face.

“Did you...did you just kiss the top of my head?”  
Tony blinked. He had indeed planted a little kiss among those soft curls. He had done it without even thinking about it.

“It seems that I did. Wasn’t planning on it, it just sort of happened.” It felt like time had slowed to molasses. Tony knew what he wanted, knew how he wanted Bruce to respond, but what did Bruce want?

“Guess I don’t mind. You did handle my crushing hug pretty well.” There was a pause. Bruce’s expression was unreadable. Tony wondered what his own face looked like.

The wait, the silence, was killing him. It was no longer a comfortable silence. “Crushing hugs are no big deal. I’m a professional when it comes to physical contact. Years of experience, you know. Highly regarded in twenty-three countries-”

And then Bruce was kissing him, hard: one hand laced in Tony’s hair and the other on the back of his neck, stubble scraping against his chin. Tony was kissing him back, couldn’t help it. He felt himself shoved roughly against the seatback as Bruce leaned forward and put one knee up on the seat for leverage, the other leg straddling Tony’s thigh. Their hands were everywhere, groping at each other hungrily. Tony took a chance and slid his tongue into Bruce’s mouth. The little growl Bruce gave him in response made him rock hard. Bruce moved away slightly, starting to kiss and gently nibble at Tony’s throat while Tony wound his fingers tightly into Bruce’s hair.

This was incredible. For once his mind wasn’t distracting him with science and work and theories, there was only Bruce: Bruce’s hands, Bruce’s tongue, those eyes, that hair. His universe had constricted down to Bruce and Bruce alone, and he was strangely alright with that.

Then Bruce stopped, leaned back, regarded Tony with a thoughtful expression. His cheeks were flushed, his hair was in disarray. There was a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“Tony.”

“Bruce.”

“What are we doing here? Is this just the whiskey talking or what?”

“No amount of alcohol in the world generates that kind of heat by itself. Whatever this is? It’s real. And it’s apparently mutual.”

“Apparently so. I have to admit, this is new territory for me.”

“Snogging a billionaire?”

Bruce made a face. “You know what I mean. I’m not...how did you put it?”

“Heteroflexible.”

“That. I wouldn’t even know what to do.”

“Well, lucky for you, you have a handsome playboy billionaire to teach you. If that’s what you want.” He paused. “And I have to admit, this would be breaking new ground for me as well.”

“Hopefully not in violation of your ‘agreement’ with Pepper?” Tony shook his head. “In that case, I’d love to learn from you, professor.”

“Ooooh, are we roleplaying? I love roleplaying.”

Bruce chuckled. “Not to start. But I don’t see a problem with it in the future.”

The intercom crackled. “Mr. Stark, we’ve arrived at Stark Tower.”

Tony winked at Bruce. “Race you upstairs?”


End file.
